A Simple Man
by Star Rhapsody
Summary: For all your fancy embellishments and noble worth, you still find ways to pull up short. LuciusNarcissa


AN: I don't know what sort of drivel this is, and I honestly feel that it has no business being posted, but I went ahead and did it anyways. I always had a soft spot for the Malfoys, especially Lucius. I certainly believe there's more to this man than he would ever let on. **Beware the dreaded second person point of view and run-on sentences. **I gave you fair warning.

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

**A Simple Man**

The first time you saw her, you knew she was beautiful. Pure-blood preferences be damned, she was everything you could've hoped for and more. Even if she were a…a _mudblood _(the word sounds so _vile _when speaking about _her_), you would've fallen at her feet, begging for her attention. But remember, you are _Lucius Malfoy_, damnit, and you best not forget your pure-blood heritage!

Even so, that never stops you from vying for her attention, conjuring silly gifts, strutting around like you're some sort of Adonis. Sometimes it works, and you have to pat yourself on the back when she eyes you coyly from across the common room. It's only when she gives you an upturn of her beautiful sloped nose that you become all too aware of the game you're playing.

Your father would be humiliated to know that your high marks in class stem only from the motivation of acquiring some girl's attention. You strive to be the best you can be, though let's be honest, your quidditch skills are dismal and Madam Hooch really only allowed you on the Slytherin team out of pity and maybe some slight blackmail no thanks to your father. In any case, you can't help but smirk when you feel her cold eyes linger unnecessarily long on _you_.

You smile even wider when she holds your gaze directly at the Great Hall, smiles slightly at you (_well goodness knows it can't be _Crabbe _she's smiling at_) and looks away, the faintest hue of red on her cheeks. This game of cat and mouse, of who can withhold approaching one another the longest, is truly exhilarating. You curse your hormones for being so enamored by this girl, but really, you think, she is worth it.

-xXx-

It's when you take a trip to Hogsmeade that you believe you will surely win her over, once and for all.

It's been tiring, watching other boys start to ogle at her; you praised her beauty first, and she should know it. Your eyes never leave her; you are like a moth attracted to the light whenever she enters a room. The thought of someone else earning her small smiles and piercing stares makes your blood boil.

So there you are, lounging about in Hogsmeade with Crabbe and Goyle flanked at your sides. They are annoying and pesky, but they make you look good in comparison. The three of you are outside the Three Broomsticks, and you take extra care to make sure you look immaculate. Crabbe and Goyle, the simpletons that they are, affirm this. You spot her approaching, accompanied by her stunning-but-slightly-maniacal sister and some other unnamed Slytherin girl who reminds you distinctly of a dog with a squashed in face.

You call out her name, put on an award-winning smile, and lean against the railing with all the swagger and charm you can muster. Before she can even respond (_she is held completely captivated, obviously_), her snotty, deranged sister just has to butt in.

"Well if it isn't Malfoy," she sneers, and you really want to hex her but somehow figure that wouldn't fall into her sister's good graces.

"Charming as always, Bellatrix," you retort, never wiping off the grin. You see beautiful Narcissa, hiding a small smile behind her mouth, and for a moment, you feel that yours is just as genuine, even in the face of her annoying sister.

"Oh, don't bother!" Bellatrix's shrill voice shatters the warm silence when she sees the way your eyes linger upon her younger sister. "She would never fall for the likes of you, Malfoy. You may be pure-blood, but that's really all you've got going for yourself. Wouldn't be surprised if you were just a complete phony anyways. How much are you paying Hogwarts to build up your character, hm?"

God, she talks too much and your blood is boiling and your nostrils are flaring and your hands are curled into tight fists and you really just _want to punch her_ because she talks so much and you kind of sort of feel as though she _might _be telling the truth, however skewed it may be.

And in a moment of rash behavior, you draw your wand, ready to send the stupid witch a stinging hex, but before you can utter a single word, Bellatrix has your wand fly out of your hand and you stumble backward, right into Goyle. You're on the ground, people pointing and laughing, especially some Gryffindors. Bellatrix looks smug, a haughty smile on her face and the bigger the look of satisfaction gets on her face, the more you feel like a moronic git.

But when Narcissa approaches you and offers you a hand, her laughter (_she has never laughed before and it sounds like tinkling bells and just _beautiful) resounding in your ears, you figure it must be worth it.

Taking her hand, you think maybe you really _should _thank Bellatrix after all.

-xXx-

By the time you approach your fifth year, you believe that things are going well.

You have just been made prefect and this is sure to win Narcissa's affections. She already seems to like you, but it sounds so much better when you can brag not only about being a pure-blood, but a prefect as well. It seems to suit your leadership skills (_and, let's be honest, the prefect badge really completes the package_). It didn't hurt that you were also a member of the Slug Club.

And even though you aren't officially dating Narcissa Black, it doesn't stop you from attempting to flirt more than ever. You love to sit with her in the common room late at night when most Slytherins are off sleeping. The fire burns in the fireplace, and despite the inescapable chill of the dungeons, you feel nothing but Narcissa's warmth as she sits next to you.

You press a kiss to her neck and press your face against the side of the head, wishing with every bone in your body that she would just kiss you back. One day it has to pay off, you think. One day she'll see that it's always been _you you you_.

So why do you look so surprised when she gently grasps your face in her long, elegant hands and presses a kiss to your lips?

But the shock wears off when all you can see is how alluring she looks beneath those long lashes of hers and how full her lips look and how much like porcelain her cheeks are and she is _so_ much better when her features soften.

And after that late night kiss in the common room, you are pleased to discover there are _many_ more from where that came from.

-xXx-

After graduating Hogwarts and establishing a position for yourself, you do the most natural thing you think it is to do: you ask for her hand in marriage.

The news is received well on both sides; you suspect your own father is smitten with her. Likewise, the Black family, despite Bellatrix's taunts, wholeheartedly accepts you because you are one of the best pure-bloods out there and my oh my, what a fancy home you have and is that a peacock strutting around the yard?

Eventually you wed, and life is going smoothly.

You give her everything she could ever want, because her smile is the only reward you hope to receive. And after spoiling her senseless, she gives you a son, and he is named Draco, and you think _this is the family I've always wanted_.

-xXx-

Somehow, someway, you manage to get yourself caught up in something that you never expected would become a whirlwind of chaos.

But you were still fairly young, and being a Death Eater gives you so much hope and promise for a pure-blood world, one in which you hope your son can grow up. Narcissa, though not as vocal in her support for the Death Eaters, follows you every step of the way because she believes in blood purity (_she would; it was a sore spot with her sister and cousin after all_) and her loyalty really only lies with you and her son anyway.

And when you fall into the Dark Lord's good graces, you feel as though you have done your family well.

-xXx-

And when the Dark Lord falls for the first time, you were lucky enough to save yourself and your family.

-xXx-

You assume the Dark Lord is gone for good, and figure the only way to keep your family in its elite social standings is by working for the Ministry of Magic.

You enjoy all the benefits and get cozy with Fudge, but honestly, where in God's name did that _Weasley _man come from and why is he allowed to breed?

And before you know it, your only son is off to Hogwarts, and Narcissa is getting slightly emotional, and maybe it's for the best that you _didn't _send him to Durmstrang because Narcissa, as lovely as she is, is a torturously loud crier even when Draco is closer to home.

When you send your son off to Hogwarts, the last thing you expect to hear about is the Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter.

_Harry Potter_, you say, pacing. _Harry _Potter. His name sounds like poison, and you have the strange urge to wash out your mouth.

Narcissa, ever the saint, soothes you as best as she can and eventually pulls you into bed and you fall into a tangle of limbs, laughter, and kisses, and all you can think of for the moment is _Harry Who?_

-xXx-

The Dark Lord is back, and you wearily find yourself pulled back into his realm.

The Dark Mark on your arm isn't worn as willingly as it once was, but once again, you do what you have to do because you are Lucius Malfoy and you are trying your damndest to be the best husband and father you can be.

And as time drags on, you realize that the Dark Lord is taking everything you have and could ever give. You are painfully aware of the toll it is taking on your wife who tries so hard to hide it behind her haughty exterior and private smiles that are just for you.

You are a man caught between fulfilling your duties to the Dark Lord and loving your family; it's painful to think that your family's safety and status rests in your standing with the Dark Lord who is tearing you away from them. It feels as though there is a huge rift between you and her, and you so desperately want to reach across and pull her close but you just _can't_.

There really is no justice in this world.

-xXx-

Azkaban is a relief.

-xXx-

You are free, but only in the physical sense of the word.

Azkaban was terrible, but at least it kept you away from this man who is sucking the _life _out of you more than any dementor could ever hope to do.

It isn't much of a surprise when Voldemort decides that _your _dwelling will become his headquarters, and it's just one of the many ways he is chewing you up and spitting you out. Not that you care. This man has put you and your family through _hell_.

He had assigned your son with a task too great, driven your wife to anxiety-induced tears, and made you feel like the smallest man alive, not because you have no fancy titles or high standings, but because you _let your family_ down.

You suddenly have the inkling that you are the only Death Eater who seems to find worth in caring for your family, the only one who dares to place them above Voldemort.

It must be your downfall.

-xXx-

For all your fancy embellishments and noble worth, you still find ways to pull up short. You could've (_and should've_) given her the _world_.

It's only when she slips her hand into yours, even after all these years, that you realize she believes she has always had it.

_Fin._


End file.
